Old Geezers

I play in a football team that has a back four with an average age of 47 (and a 15 year old goal-keeper bizarrely enough). So I guess it shouldn't be too much of a surprise that a 74 year old was able to sell out a 16,000 capacity this month. Leonard Cohen started at 8pm and, including a short break, was still going when we left just after 11pm. I missed Leonard Cohen the first time round, and I must admit I find his music a little downbeat in large doses, but he was fantastic. He turned the O2 into a smoky New York club.

This Time its for Real

Along with a surprisingly large number of West London's baby-boomers my brother and I went along to see New Jersey's 2nd finest son (below Bruce, above Bon Jovi)Southside Johnny and his band the Asbury Jukes. I have seen them about four times over the years. My enjoyment has usually hinged on how the soundman has set them up. If he has amped up the horn section I love them, if he has amped up the guitarist (who thinks he is Brian May) then I just like them.

I'm pleased to report the horns got the jump this time - not only that but there were four of them. Southside's financial status at the time dictates how many make the trip. The most I have seen has been five and the least two.

Bizarrely he went on stage at around 8.15 - no Special Guests as the ticket promised. Around 8.20 I was in the kitchen at home and I made a call to see what time he was on. "He already is." came the response!

Luckily a cab was already outside so we only missed about 15 minutes and he played for a further two hours. Endearingly he got the hits out of the way early, oh alright best known ones. By the time he got to the encore he had lost most of his voice and/or got bored with his own stuff. So the guitarist took centre-stage and played various Beatles songs and an Eddie Cochran one (as it was his birthday Southside had just remembered) for about 30 minutes. Despite a career of over 30 years, presumably playing the same set, Southside and his band still behave as if they are having an after-hours party with friends in a New Jersey club. And Southside still has a fantastic rasping voice. They remain one of the great white soul bands who deserve more recognition than they have ever got. They would have been made for life with a spot in the Blues Brothers film for example. Mind you I would have had to go and see them in Wembley Arena if they had done that and Shepherds Bush is so much nearer home.

F.A.B.

I met Fabio Capello in a hotel lift at the end of August in Monte Carlo. I like to think my pep talk has helped to turn England's fortunes around. Here it is in its entirety

Me - You are doing very well
FC - Thanks
Me - It is a tough job
FC - I know
Me - A very, very tough job
FC - I know, I know
Me - Stay tough, Fabio
FC - I will
Me - Good luck
FC - Thank you

Clearly this brusque, Pinter-esque dialogue cut through to Fabio in a way all the football scribes have failed to achieve. Since then he has won all his games making tough decisions about who he picks and who he drops.

It was good to see that he kept faith with Frank Lampard, albeit through force majeure. Frank has been brilliant for Chelsea this season. Against Villa today he and Ballack led a master-class in passing and moving. This season's Chelsea team have not yet received the praise they deserve. Mind you there has been barely time to reflect on it such has been the torrent of off-the-field M&A and managerial changes going on.

Crunch Time

One was always told that banks were the secure places you went when everything else was crashing down. It seems like the world order has been reversed this year with, first, Bear Stearns and then Lehmans and Merrill Lynch hitting the decks at break-neck speed. With necessities 50% up on last year and everything else 50% down, it is bizarre to see economists still debating whether and when we are going into recession. By the time they make up their minds we will have sailed past recession into whatever the next stage is - slump, armageddon, meltdown. But hopefully its all a bad dream.

Simon Gray

As might have been predicted by any reader of his diaries, Simon Gray finally died this month at the age of 71. I really liked his work although, I admit, when I thought about it I had only seen 3 of his plays in the theatre and 2 on TV. He had a very specific world view which he bestowed on all his central characters, one which rarely seemed to travel far emotionally speaking from the Senior Common Room. But his plays were always very funny and he rarely shrank from taking the contrary view. I guess that is one of the reasons he was and will be regarded as a 2division players compared to his contemporaries, a George to Pinter's John and Stoppard's Paul. A right wing playwright in a left wing decade also contributed to this I think.

I especially liked the two diaries he wrote about the first UK and US productions of The Common Pursuit - in my view his best play along with Otherwise Engaged. He was very amusing and honest about his frustrations with the theatrical profession in the UK one and most of the US population in the second one. He never held anything back and you could really feel his anger bubbling up, communicated in a series of ironic asides and unforgivable outbursts. It is amazing he and Harold Pinter got any work done given the amount of champagne drinking that went on!

More importantly when you read about his conversations with Harold Pinter about text edits, sets, positioning, costume, interactions and pauses, one can really apprecciate the huge gap a Director fills between the text and the performance.

Many people praised the series of diaries he published most recently, The Smoking Diaries. Unquestionably they were a great holiday read but unedited and rambling it was harder to find the funny bits between the ruminations of his encroaching death compared to the earlier ones. Thus said he was totally honest about himself and his failings to the end and spared the reader nothing. Not many writers could claim that today.

Simon Gray

As might have been predicted by any reader of his diaries, Simon Gray finally died this month at the age of 71. I really liked his work although, I admit, when I thought about it I had only seen 3 of his plays in the theatre and 2 on TV. He had a very specific world view which he bestowed on all his central characters, one which rarely seemed to travel far emotionally speaking from the Senior Common Room. But his plays were always very funny and he rarely shrank from taking the contrary view. I guess that is one of the reasons he was and will be regarded as a 2division players compared to his contemporaries, a George to Pinter's John and Stoppard's Paul. A right wing playwright in a left wing decade also contributed to this I think.

I especially liked the two diaries he wrote about the first UK and US productions of The Common Pursuit - in my view his best play along with Otherwise Engaged. He was very amusing and honest about his frustrations with the theatrical profession in the UK one and most of the US population in the second one. He never held anything back and you could really feel his anger bubbling up, communicated in a series of ironic asides and unforgivable outbursts. It is amazing he and Harold Pinter got any work done given the amount of champagne drinking that went on!

More importantly when you read about his conversations with Harold Pinter about text edits, sets, positioning, costume, interactions and pauses, one can really apprecciate the huge gap a Director fills between the text and the performance.

Many people praised the series of diaries he published most recently, The Smoking Diaries. Unquestionably they were a great holiday read but unedited and rambling it was harder to find the funny bits between the ruminations of his encroaching death compared to the earlier ones. Thus said he was totally honest about himself and his failings to the end and spared the reader nothing. Not many writers could claim that today.

Staples in the Hand

Good of Labour to lay on some silly season entertainment with David Milliband deciding to mount a leadership challenge while his boss hides away in Suffolk. Sounds like most of the cabinet are skipping quality time with families to bombard their colleagues and media with their carefully-coded views and aspirations. Meanwhile Dave has done his Boden catalogue photocall and is tucking smugly into some lobster and chips in Rock. The first cabinet meeting of the Autumn should be fun - "How was your break, Gordon?" "You know how my f**king break was."